


Too Polite...

by SpookyNoGood



Category: Buster Keaton - Fandom, speak easily
Genre: 1930s, 1940s, Anger, Angry Kissing, Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Face Slapping, Forced Orgasm, Funny, Gentleman, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Lemon, M/M, Male Slash, Male rape, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Polite, Public Hand Jobs, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shameless Smut, Smut, Verbal Humiliation, Violence, Violent Sex, too polite to refuse sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 21:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyNoGood/pseuds/SpookyNoGood
Summary: You jack off and humiliate the Professor while he desperately begs you to stop.





	Too Polite...

**Author's Note:**

> The following is some context/backstory! But if you don't care, then skip right ahead LOL!
> 
> In the 1932 comedy "Speak Easily," Buster Keaton plays this shy, lonely college professor who randomly inherits $750,000.  
> So he impulsively gets caught up in a decision to go to New York and direct a Broadway show. 
> 
> Many girls try to seduce him (and rightly so, he's damn fine) but fail. But I wonder what would happen had they been a little more, uh...confident about it.

“Oh - my Goodness,” he gasps, in his mid-Atlantic accent. 

You had mounted his lap, backstage, as the musical was due to start in 15 minutes. One of your hands was rubbing the front of his suit and tie, where you could just barely feel a hint of his warm chest. His suit covered him from neck to toe; the collar was tight against his neck, his suit was sewn perfectly to match his shape, and his long shining foxtrot shoes looked like they had been licked clean. He was perfect; so innocent and yet so deserving of satisfaction. The rigid man was so confused now, because he had flatly refused all of your sexual advances - but you persisted anyway. And now you’re forcing his back against the sofa as you rub his warm, hardening cock through his tight silk suit pants.

You see him look down at your hand and gulp, speechless from horror and confusion. He tries halfheartedly to push your arm away, but you push it aside and grip his dick harder. 

“St-stop."

“Why should I?” you ask.

“…b-because this is very inappropriate, and I implore you to stop. I have no intention of marriage, and - "

“This has nothing to do with marriage,” you say, as you rub your thumb against the head of his cock. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to suppress whatever noise would have come out of him. Trying to illicit a bigger reaction, you start really jacking him off through those smooth thin pants - and you nuzzle into his neck and give it a long, humiliating lick.

Once again he struggles not to react - but you could tell he got goosebumps and accidentally let out a low breath.

“Yeaaahh,” you grunt, and you try to force your tongue into his mouth but he turns away, wincing in disgust. You use the opportunity to lean into him, pressing your chest against his, and then breathing directly into his ear. 

“Please…stop,” he gasped, almost sobbing, as you go even faster. “I’m not c-comfortable…and I d-don’t want to hurt you…”

You grab him suddenly by the lapels, jacking him off at the same tempo. “Oh, yeah, why don’t you hurt me? Come on. Push me off.”

“A g-gentleman…doesn’t roughhouse - AAH!” he gasps as you sharply slap him across the face.

“What about now?”

The searing pain of the slap makes him clench his teeth.

“You’re still not gonna fight back?”

The Professor throws his head back and hisses silently, tears forming at the pain and at the repression. His thighs are squeezed together - his whole body is shivering, but still continues to sit there, too polite to push you off, straining himself to stay still and quiet as you rub his painfully hard, pulsing cock. The pain of the slap still stings, almost as much as his dignity.

“Why don’t you fight back? WHY don’t you FIGHT BACK?”

“Pl-please…no more - I’m begging you - OH my goodness,” he finally moans, as his body involuntarily thrusts forward in the pre-throes of his upcoming orgasm.

You realize that he’s struggling to suppress himself so hard because he would have been able to cum two minutes ago. And you've literally just started.

He finally reaches up and grabs your arm, gripping it hard. “PLEASE,” he gasps angrily, his eyes rolled up, “S-STOp…”

“How are you about to cum? It's been, like, two seconds. Wow…you should be ashamed of yourself."

His fists and face are clenched down - he shakes violently and tries to suppress his grunt: “…nn-nnNN!! No more insults. I must b-be direct with you, so - GET off me - pl-PLEASE…!!”

“Why are you struggling so much? I’ve barely even done anything. It’s been minutes. With a face like that, I can't believe you're still such a virgin. Holy shit...you’re pathetic.”

That word triggers an anger inside of him - an anger that quickly turns to carnal rage. He gasps and thrusts forward, horrified that he’s about to cum, struggling to keep his balls full -

“Ugh, and you're humping it too?" You jack him off even rougher and shake your head, while he clenches his shaking knees, looking down, embarrassed of his own body's reactions and too limp to make a difference. His mouth hangs open as you continue, "Gentleman, huh? You're acting like a bitch in heat. What kind of gentleman are you? You won’t even stop your own rape."

“N-NO…I - ”

“Shut up. You’re a coward. Bitch, are you about to cum in your pants? What the Hell is wrong with you?” 

“GRR—AHHH!” Your words make him so furious; he has no comeback, and his head flings upwards. His jaw clenches and he finally tries to push you off- but it's too late. His rage is too strong and he loses focus for a split second - and that's all it takes. His fury absolutely sends him over the edge - his eyes open wide in terror. He can’t hold it in anymore, and his balls finally, finally empty themselves - he grunts and writhes spastically and lets out angry cries of “Ah!” and “Oh - God!” as cum shoots out of his long and perfect dick. He rides through the most intense orgasm of his life - grinding and humping nothing, accidentally thumping his back and neck on the sofa as he rolls back in blinding pleasure. His angry cries turn to sultry, sweet moans, as he arches his back and grabs his glasses, finally allowing himself to ride it out.

Unfortunately, every drop of his cum is wasted. Instead of his seed being emptied into his eventual wife or at least into the mouth of a loving partner, it all shoots inside of his clean briefs and silk trousers, turning his beautiful orgasm into an embarrassing, humiliating mess. His eyes are wide as he watches himself soil his pants; his mouth is wide open in horror but he can’t stop himself from gasping and squirting again and again and again, even though you aren’t even touching him anymore. You watch him look down horrified as the stain in his pants grows from a droplet to a large, noticeable warm wetness that gushes down and makes him shiver in agony and humiliation. After he has gushed multiple months’ worth of jizz through his clean iron-pressed pants, he finally realized how horrible this truly is. How is he going to go to the premiere now? He shivers uncontrollably, his hands up at his sides, frozen in terror, staring wordlessly at the warm mess his dick has made - and, most puzzling of all, his still-extremely-hard cock tenting the front of his wet, warm pants.

“Nice,” you say, as you get up and exit the room, leaving him shaking and psychologically broken.


End file.
